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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 6, 2007 23:03:47 GMT -5
I do not have a son.
Pasiphaë stood near the cliff edge of a mountain she had, at one time, dreaded more than anything. Swollen with pregnancy, the Spartan woman had been terrified for her child's fate. She could not help but heave a sigh of relief as it was declared a baby girl. Now, however, as Pasiphaë tucked a long, loose strand of brown hair behind one ear...
She stared down at the pit below Mt. Taygetos. The pit that was strewn feet high with decayed bones. Bits of skin. Smashed skulls. Ravens had taken much of the flesh, along with other scavengers, leaving nothing but infant bones, easily crushed to powder. Now, now as she studied gaping maws of tiny skulls from her position...what would she give?
To have a son. To have stood here. He would have been healthy. She would have given anything to have the blood of her husband running through the veins of a soldier. The veins of a Spartan man. She could have stood before the punishments, could have withstood the beatings, the pleading gazes. If only she had a son. Oh ye gods, times like these...even years later, it evoked the same sorrow.
With the Persian threat, she felt that she owed her husband this honor. Of a son who could fight. But she had no such fortune. What glory could come of that?
"Forgive me, Linus," Pasiphaë murmured in a low, throaty tone - made more strained by the swelling of emotions she sought to quell. The Spartan woman tilted her head back towards a gray streaked sky, inhaling sharply in the hopes that it could cleanse her. She tasted old blood in the air, the coppery scent. She tightened her fists at her sides, imagining, just for an instant, the battlefield. Flashes of it, remembering...
"May the spirit of our son-" Whomever he might have been, if Fate have given them the time, "-lather in the blood of our enemies. That we rip from the bones that Persian flesh. Soft with luxury, we can bring the godking to his knees." A submissive. As he should have been. No one conquered Sparta. And she herself would slit her own throat before she would willingly fall to her knees before Xerxes.
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Post by Archelaos Jude on Apr 6, 2007 23:30:09 GMT -5
Archelaos was one to take imaginative walks from time-to-time, more as a distraction rather than relaxation. A man of his duty and rank had much to think about - much stress he put on himself with being who he was. A perfectionist. Damned to pick and peeve at the details. Nevertheless, he managed the anxiety. Denied the stress. Furthermore, ignored how unhealthy it must have been. But that was neither here nor there. At that moment, Archelaos was succeeding in his distraction. But why Apothetae? Of all the extensive grasslands, why the graveyard of rejected legends? Of unsatisfied dreams? The background served it's purpose in highlighting the devastation in vast. Archelaos would pay no mind. The gods desired such weather for reasons that were perhaps above his own, and for that he would respect the current conditions. It was selfish to wish for pleasantry all the time. "Oh-" He said to himself as he laid eyes upon another figure, one much less masculine as his own. Instantaneously, he thought of his wife. Reaction, of course. Spartan women possessed a similar divine figure to which one could mistaken one for another. It could cause a drunken wanderer and corrupted victim to commit adulterous crimes. -Distant Muttering-Archelaos wasn't one to intrude or eavesdrop, so naturally he kept his distance feeling as though he should venture elsewhere. While he wondered why anyone would consider such a place besides himself, he would not be rude. He cleared his throat, but quickly looked up after realizing it may have been audible. Only one way to find out. (Hope you don't mind me intruding.  Figured we new comers had to stick together! lol. Nice post, btw.) |
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 6, 2007 23:47:37 GMT -5
(Don't mind in the least, lol. Ditto to you!)
Pasiphaë trailed off into something of a melancholy silence. The overcast weather did nothing to ease her concerns, though she was confident that these feelings would pass. Eventually. They were distracting, which only meant she needn't be idle enough to think anymore. As Pasiphaë was considering what tasks she might be able to undertake in order to avoid this sort of regretful onslaught of memory-
The sound of a cleared throat carried. There wasn't wind enough to hide the sound, and she would have flinched-if she lacked the control. As it was, the only sign was a slight clench of the jaw, eyes narrowing towards nothing in particular. She tilted her head first, then turned around abruptly, spine stiffened in defense, though it relaxed upon sight of the intruder.
Pasiphaë frowned at him, but it wasn't displeasure so much as perplexity, perhaps? She was not fond of surprises. While she was not familiar with every Spartan, it was easy to see that he was indeed one of the army, perhaps one of important rank. She would have attempted to guess his age if she wasn't distracted by the poignant question of why.
"Is there a summons of some kind?" she inquired after a moment's silence. That could be, really, the only reason she would expect to see a soldier near the Apothetae. Or anyone, for that matter. It was not the most coveted of contemplation spots, perhaps owing to the macabre surroundings. She glanced around, as if maybe she had missed something?
"Or is this the resting place of one of your kin, Spartan?" A more delicate way of asking if he was, perhaps, visiting the dead.
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Post by Ajax on Apr 7, 2007 0:21:55 GMT -5
Ajax was headed to visit the graveyard, as he began to try to clear his head. He had heard rumours of war, and he knew if there was to be he would join. Now, as he pulled closer to the pit he thought of all the potential soldiers they had foolishly thrown away.
Ahead of him he spotted two figures, one was that of a slender female and the other a male, perhaps a hardened soldier. But there was no conversation just an eerie silence, it seemed only fitting in a graveyard. He slowed down and stopped, a few paces short of the other man, who now upclose was definitely a soldier.
He shifted uncomfortably, and she began to speak. She asked the other man if he had any children who rested here now, which made him think of his young son. How he loved him, perhaps the only great reason to go to war, beside the favor of the god. The man stood at about his shoulder.
(Fellow noobie joining in. XD)
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Post by Archelaos Jude on Apr 7, 2007 23:39:38 GMT -5
Sensing his presence was known, Archelaos found his posture and looked alive. He didn't assume any particular response, but was ready for any shrills or shock of the sort. It was common for Spartans to react first and ask questions later - mind you of the present scenery and circumstances.
"Uh-," He cleared his throat, not expecting the sudden inability to speak. It wasn't caused by nervousness or anything of the sort. Pretty random, in fact. Two ought to do the trick. "No, not at all, ma'am." Who could blame her for the question? Archelaos always carried an air to him that gave away his profession rather easily. For the most part it was a positive, but it also caused assumptions and precautions.
"The only present summons would not apply to a Spartan woman," A further addition to lighten the mood. Deciding to reach more personal grounds, Archelaos moved in closer. He wouldn't make this Spartan woman lose her voice over him.
"I am not here to mourn either, although I do offer respect if that is your own story," Tilting his head, he gave almost a royal bow. "My true reasoning would be far from believable, I must inform." Short of his sentence, another presence was detected but Archelaos wouldn't acknowledge them verbally. Instead, he glanced and returned his attention upon the Spartan woman. Today was an odd day.
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 8, 2007 15:27:18 GMT -5
(Heya Ajax  Yes, newbies unite! Sorry for the delay - Easter festivities...!) Pasiphaë studied the soldier expectantly, with some amusement. Was he unable to speak? Or perhaps...just slow? He couldn't have been surprised - he had surprised her. When he finally managed to properly enunciate, Pasiphaë gave a slight nod, indicating she understood. "Naturally," she replied pleasantly, raising her voice enough to cover the distance. Military summons, of course. The soldier stepped closer, which she appreciated. "Nay, I do not mourn for these poor wretches." Nodding towards the infant skeletons. Much as she abhorred the thought as a mother, it was an understandable process. What good was a soldier with a weakness? Spartans relied on their brothers, and a deformity for one might as well have been a deformity for all. "My true reasoning would be far from believable, I must inform." "Oh?" Pasiphaë smiled briefly, "You would be surprised, soldier, at the vast possibilities of what is believable." She, too, noticed the other presence - a very tall Spartan. She looked to the first, then indicated with her gaze the second. "For example, I believe you and I are not the only ones with preference for this graveyard. What a trio of morbid figures we three be," she murmured with some perplexity. Pasiphaë raised one hand in greeting to the newest arrival, and looked between the two, considering. Now this, this she believed was something many Spartan youths took for granted. In many cultures, a woman would not leave her house - she would not wish to find herself cornered by two men. This was not the case for her. Pasiphaë wagered she was safe enough amongst two Spartan men that a dozen Persians could have attacked, and the three of them would have been left unscathed. Such was the skill, none of it exaggerated. "I forget my manners," she said ruefully, giving an apologetic bow of her head, "Pasiphaë Lysanidis." She looked between them, expectantly. "And...your names?" |
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